Youji Stubborn
by PinkWhirlWind
Summary: Youji is held and interogated by unknown operatives. Weiss now works for the Japanese government and Omi is all grown up and needing to save Youji for very personal reasons.
1. Chapter 1

Youji Stubborn

by Nix Winter

Disclaimer: I don't own WK. Alas. I do own some others. Google my name to find them.

But... Warnings. This is an Omi/Youji story. Omi is 22 in this story.

Youji Stubborn

"It is a very simple offer, " the woman said. "You tell me who you work for or I'll break another finger. You cried real loud last time."

Youji sat in a metal chair which was bolted to the cement floor. Both wrists were handcuffed to the metal chair arms. He wore the same club gear that he'd been in three nights before when they'd picked him up. "Oh baby," he tried to purr, "You sure know how to turn me on!"

Blood from a black a battered eye glued tangled blond hair to a swollen face. Youji knew death knew it really well. He knew it well enough not to be afraid of it.

"You are one dumb ass rice ball," she complained. "I know it thrill you and your little fuck buddies to see this city blown to shit, but I live here and I don't want my home fucked.''

The real problem with getting worked over by a good interrogator is that a person starts to believe them. He so wanted to say that's what he wanted too. Save Melbourne. That's where they were, he thought. Australia. Maybe. He couldn't remember straight.

Japan didn't like atomic bombs. Make people's skin fall off, hair fall out. "I like my hair," he whispered.

That was a mistake. He knew it the moment that he said it. The caress through his hair was soft at first, but then she had a fist full of tangled blond. "You bleach don't you?"

Well didn't that just go without saying. She was the only person he'd seen since he'd woken up in this chair. There were other people in this place. Omi. He'd been on a mission with Omi. They'd been meeting the girlfriend of a scientist who talked to much.

Weiss wouldn't have been there at all if she hadn't been Japanese. It wasn't like the world hadn't always had its share of dangerous demon fucking assholes, but setting of a nuclear bomb in a nice place like Sidney. No. Melbourne. Anywhere. Just made things so fucked up. ''I'm thirsty.''

"Tell me about your friends, Youji," the woman asked.

That was one thing he wouldn't do. Not now, not if she broke all his fingers. Omi would track down the bastards, put darts in them, save the city. Omi would go back to working on his master's level college in gods only knew what weirdness that he could find on the other side of a keyboard. Youji's mind wandered and he could almost hear those key clicks, so fast, predictable rhythm. He couldn't remember exactly the day Omi had stopped being just a kid, started being something more.

Not that it had ever been serious, just something nice to sleep in the chair and listen to him type, to feel his fingers caress lightly over a knee. Youji couldn't remember the day he'd really started feeling human again, but he knew it had been when Omi had touched his face. Maybe he did remember the day. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to die as long as he never gave up Omi. He'd never tell. Not if this chick were the cops, or the terrorists and it was so hard to tell.

"I don't have any friends," he liked. "I'm just a fucking whore. What did you think I was?"

Elsewhere...

Omi's fingers paused. He'd matured since Aya's sister had woken. He'd made choices for them. Stay with Kritiker, or work for the Japanese government. He'd made that choice and they'd followed him. Maybe, they really worked for Kritiker, but this way, he was still Omi.

Somehow, he felt, if he'd gone the other direction, he'd be Mamaru. Youji had the most beautiful eyes. The trail lead to a shipping company, and he would by pass their security before morning.

Youji had disappeared while they'd been at a club, and Omi knew. He knew Youji was alive. He had to be. Omi hadn't told him that he loved him yet.


	2. Chapter 2

Youji Stubborn

Two

by Nix Winter

Disclaimer: Don't own WK. Wrote this on my phone. Did it for fun :) Hope you enjoy it.

How do you tell when you're falling in love? I knew Youji-kun was bisexual before Aya-kun had joined Weiss. After bisexual seemed way to weak. I've  
never imagined someone chasing someone else the way Youji-kun went after Aya. I turned into an adult watching Youji-kun wait for Ayu-kun to notice him.

The problem was kinda that Aya-kun noticed just fine. He just didn't want Youji-kun.

I used to think that I'd stopped being a kid with the kidnapping. I didn't start being an adult until Youji-kun taped up my ribs up for me. Its not like I hadn't had my ribs kicked in before. I kill people for a living, right? I remember when I was a kid and Youji-kun told me stories all night while we were trapped in a flooded house. He could have gotten out, but I'd gotten bitten by a snake.

That's right. Hit men who wear shorts should wear really good boots. Youji-kun had gotten those boots for me too. Gods, Youji-kun looks like a god when he's shopping. I love how he forgets about being guilty or avoiding what peoplethink of him. I didn't think about it then, about how sunlight could makeYouji-kun's hair so beautiful.

It was later, after my ribs, after I realized the difference between being a kid and a man. A boy saw Youji-kun as a friend, a trusted partner. I'd been 21 and 5 days when I'd gotten those busted ribs, and shocked as all Hell when his fingers brushing over my bruised skin made me blush. It's so vivid, this memory. Calloused fingers, tenderly brushing over my belly like I was valuable, like I was something.

Have you ever been nothing for so long that your so surprised by the idea that maybe that's not true to someone. And I'm not a boy. My god. That touch went to the core of me and dropped the world straight and hard. Youji-kun was the most beautiful person in the world. He'd smiled at me then. Different. Small, fragile, and I knew he felt worthless too.

He's spent a lot of time at my desk since. He just sits there in the black leather wing chair, reading magazines and listening to music. I always thought Youji-kun did more active things. Maybe he does. Maybe I didn't notice all the time. I spend too much time thinking about my graduate studies and screwing over this asshole or another. I spend too much time thinking about how to put the man I love in danger.

He smiles like he could walk across his wire from purgatory straight to heaven and no one would say a thing, sometimes, but I know he's more fragile. And he's here with me, touching my face, and it's okay to lean in closer, to shiver in his arms as he pulls me even closer. He hasn't shaved and his stubble scratches my forehead as he rubs his cheek against my head, a soft purring sound coming from him. And I know... I just know every thing's okay, that it's okay to tell him now. "Will you kiss me, please?

"Omi!" Ken's voice pulls me out of my thoughts, and I realize... I'm sleeping. "Get your mind out of the porn and what do you need 50,000 for? Why are you hacking money? What do we need it for?"

"Gonna take Youji-kun shopping when he gets back."

Ken paused, anger and denial mixing it up in his expression. "You are looking for the people trying to blow up this city too? Youji wouldn't have wanted the mission to fail."

"I'm going to find them both."

I am. Then I'm going to take Youji-kun shopping.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 

Disclaimer: Don't own WK and this was just written for fun.

The end of the world came and went. It wasn't the first time Omi had seen the world ruse to the bring and pull back. In truth, he couldn't find all that much concern for the world or the woman standing between him and Youji. His concern had gone much more selfish. It was for Youji and himself.

"If you don't get out of my way, I will kill you," Omi said. He meant it too. He'd murdered only the marked to that point, those that others had condemned. Perhaps he was more executioner than murderer Never had he stared at someone and considered condemning them himself, voiding their life by his own judgment.

Omi knew most of what had happened since Youji's capture now. He knew that Youji had nearly escaped with the female prisoner. He knew this woman had tortured him. He knew she was the leader of a small group of vigilante police. Her comrades had fled or been non lethally dispatched by the rest of Omi's team. He also knew if she didn't get out from between him and Youji, he would kill her.

Her eyes were wide, white crazed. Her hands shook. He wasn't sure she wouldn't just shoot him. The strength to torture and condemn, these were things that were easier to start than to maintain. The human soul collapsed under grief and suffering. It either arose again as something much less than human, as the root of demonic myths, or it shattered and took all that was rational with it.

"Why? He's a terrorist! A filthy murderer! He will confess soon! You'll see," she said, hysteria and obsession coloring her words, making them like a terrifying gothic cathedral around her, protecting her from the last choice of demon or insanity. "He killed my brother!"

"Your brother died in a horrible attack. No one should die like that," Omi said, moving just a little to the side, dancing a slow dance of strategy with her. Beyond her, Youji sat in a metal office chair, something from the '40's that probably had been sold half price more than once. His arms were handcuffed to either arm and his head hung, chin nearly to his chest. His jeans were ruined beyond hope, scraped and torn as if he'd been dragged across the cement floor. Both of his hands were swollen, misshapen, and Omi wanted to jump on the woman and beat her until she felt what Youji must have felt. "We want to stop anymore innocent people from dying."

"Yes! Yes! We have to save innocent people," she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "He can tell us where the bomb is. There is a nuclear bomb. People's skin will melt off. Have you ever seen what that kind of bomb can do?"

"We have stopped the bomb," Omi said, "The terrorists are all dead."

She spun towards Youji, pistol aimed at his head. "You hear that, you shit! Your friends are dead!" Just as quickly, she spun the pistol in her hand and brought it down towards one of Youji's battered hands.

Omi lunged, dropping his bow as her pistol hit his arms that shielded Youji's hand. His cry echoed in the cement room and a moment later Ken was there, blood and claws, his own kind of insanity shielding his humanity. The woman, whatever her path to monsterhood or insanity, Ken ended it there. Claws carved her throat and she hit the wall a rag of once humanity.

In a blink, the woman who'd tortured Youji was no more and Ken was there, a lion of leather and chestnut hair, bloody claws and energy. "Is he alive?"

Dropping to his knees, Omi sought out Youji's face. A shiver went over Omi's shoulders. "Balinese?'

"Hey, Bombay," Youji said, words slurred through swollen lips. "So the bad men are really dead?"

"Of course," Omi said, refusing to let his eyes move to the body of the woman. "We are going to get you out of here." From his pocket, he brought a small vial of acid, which he quickly injected into the locks of both handcuffs.

"The cleaners are on their way," Aya said, who'd been invisible in the shadow of the doorway until he'd spoken.

"Almost done," Omi said, carefully opening the cuffs. "Can you walk?"

"Depends how fast?" Youji hedged.

"I'm going to carry you," Omi said as he retrieved his bow and fastened it to his shoulder.

"I can walk," Youji complained.

"Cleaners," Aya said, just a slight edge of irritation in his voice, which really meant a great deal of concern in his thoughts.

"You can't carry me! I'm too heavy," Youji said, logic, but he was missing the true state of things. Maybe that is always the way of it. One things the morning will never become the afternoon, someone who wasn't a man becomes one, and Omi's arms were strong, powerful, as they slipped behind Youji and lifted him out of the chair gently. "I can walk."

"Shut up, Balinese," Aya growled and they were off, Aya on point, Ken covering them from behind, Youji in Omi's arms, his head on his shoulder.

Omi smelled of home and quiet nights, the comforting beating of his heart, and Youji slipped away from their flight, from the hurried descent down the stairs and away from the coming cleaners. Every now and then he could hear Omi murmuring to him, and he promised himself he'd be strong again later, after a while, right now, with Omi's fingers combing out his hair, Omi's words promising him that everything was okay, that he'd saved them all by telling the girl where to go, that was heaven.

He wasn't sure he was dreaming or waking and he wasn't sure he cared. "Omi, I love you. I love you. I wanted to touch your hair. You can't hear me, can you?"

"I can hear you," Ken growled.

"Let him alone, Ken!" Omi said. And Youji realized they were in the back of a van, going somewhere. Omi held him still. He still leaned against Omi's chest. "He's just hurt."

"Sorry!" Youji said, not sure why he was crying now. Nothing hurt anymore, really, nothing more than it had anyway, as he floated there in between Omi's arms and nothingness. Omi was only being nice. He couldn't love back. He was just being nice. "I'm so sorry."

(I'll try to get more done soon! I got rid of my phone that got my email, so now I will be more focused on my writing! I hope my writing improves again. It feels really clunky now. Thank you for reading!)


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